For You Only
by Shizuku Tsukishima749
Summary: -Movieverse/Bookverse.- TRADING YESTERDAY Challenge One: "For You Only" - Edmund, Lucy, and Susan were his world, his life. Peter breathed only for his siblings. Sibling Bonding.
1. Gentleness

_A/N: _As some of you know, I've set out a personal challenge for myself: write one Chronicles of Narnia fanfic for every Trading Yesterday (my favorite group in the world!...well, before they changed the name/sound...) song existing, and this is the first _finished_ testament to that! I hope you like it!

_Basis for this fic: _I LOVE sibling bonding between the Pevensies to DEATH, and I couldn't resist tying in how this song works for Peter's relationship with each of his siblings! Thus, this is a Peter/Multiple Siblings fic, if that makes any sense. As always, NO this is NOT incest (no offense to those whom like it)!

_Basis_ _for this chapter_: I really needed to work on my Pete/Su bonding, seeing as I don't do nearly enough of it, and then, I thought of how stinking well this first verse most likely fit Su's feelings in PC when Peter fought Miraz, so...I took what I could get! Really, I'm happy with this, though I think the ending's too rushed... Sorry! I'm very tired (even though it's 3 in the afternoon and I've gotten at least 9 hours of sleep the last two nights...) and I don't really know how to end it, and I don't want to bore you to tears with my retelling of the war effort, so...if it IS too rushed, please tell me! I'll do my best to improve it (if possible)!

_Disclaimer_: If I owned Narnia, I would be the HAPPIEST person on Earth (NO, I'm not joking in the slightest)!! Thus, all rightful places, names, events, etc., belong to Walden Media, C.S. Lewis, and anyone else affiliated! (Can't WAIT for VDT next year!! *jumps up and down, smiling maniacally* I just PRAY they listen to the fans' pleas not to change the storyline!)

* * *

_"Blinding darkness surrounds me_

_And I am reaching for you only_

_This hopelessness that drowns_

_All that I believe_

_Will be the one thing that I need_

_For you only"_

_~"For You Only" by Trading Yesterday_

_

* * *

_

The respite had just begun, and Peter's face twisted at the pain in his injured shoulder as he dragged himself forward, Edmund immediately running up to help him. The elder boy was thankful for his brother's support and threw his unharmed arm over his shoulders, but suddenly went a shade paler than he had been a second ago, eyes fixed on something straight ahead and expression anxious beyond even present reasoning.

Fearfully, Edmund followed his High King's gaze to see Susan and Caspian riding in on horseback. When they did not recognize the horse as Destrier, the one on which they had sent their sisters and Caspian had assured them was safe, all injuries and concerns were forgotten for the most pressing matter:

Where was Lucy?

Peter asked the same in a panicked voice as Caspian dismounted and helped Susan to the ground, and the Gentle Queen answered as she stood before her Magnificent King, slightly out of breath. The Telmarine boy was out of breath, too... The fourteen-year-old's eyes hardened and jaw set protectively. There had been a struggle, then.

"She got through…with a little help."

As he breathed out in unimagined relief at the news that his youngest sister was safe, Peter felt faint and nearly let himself succumb to his exhaustion, pain, and momentary joy. Yet, as he felt Edmund's grip tighten around him in an effort to both comfort him and sustain his upright position, he realized now was not the time or place. He would get his chance to unwind when all of this was over.

Looking to Caspian, he paid the mere thirteen-year-old the respect he deserved, blue eyes shining with indebted tears; he remembered how scary it had been to be a King of such tender years, and he couldn't be prouder of the boy chosen to take his place.

"Thanks." To be thanked by the High King of Narnia was a thing of legend itself, but to be thanked by him for saving both of his royal sisters as his eyes housed unashamed tears in the middle of a duel…the recipient of the regard had never felt so unworthy, while simultaneously so ecstatic.

Hiding his clashing emotions impressively well for the sake of the current situation, Caspian removed his riding gloves from his hands while speaking, looking his idol and friend directly in the eyes.

"Well, you were busy." There was a slight chuckle, smile, in the answer, but he quickly sobered. Edmund offered him a kind, humorous grin, nodding faintly in acknowledgment of the jest, for he himself had been quite the hilarious King in their time and was secretly delighted to find another sharer of his love for wittily serious royalty.

Smiling a last time at the boy-forced-man, Peter turned to Susan, who stared at him expectantly, face pale with the anticipation of the battle ahead. He frowned a bit, and she gave him a weary smile; already, she was wishing for this horror story to be finished. He regretted his next words more than anything else, knowing with the crushing guilt that always came that he wouldn't be able to grant such a thing without some form of carnage.

"You'd better get up there, just in case. I don't expect the Telmarines will keep their word."

She looked around quickly, uneasily, chancing the barest glance past him at Miraz and the other members of the opposition. Glancing up at him searchingly, she was much paler than she had been prior, nearly a stark white compared to her earlier rose-quartz complexion.

Stepping forward swiftly, she hugged him tightly with one arm; Edmund had moved out of the way long ago after making sure his brother would be able to stand on his own, easily discerning what would come to pass. He had seen this so many times during their reign that the appropriate movements were second nature for him now.

Sniffing in the blatant, battle-worn scent with which she had been forced to get familiar as a girl, the old sentiments came back as well. She hated and loved the smell all at once: in one moment, it signified how lucky she was that he was there at all; the next, it reflected just how close she had come to losing him yet again.

Suddenly aware of his scrunched face and clenched teeth, frozen breath and stiff back, she realized she should pull away. He had been hurt in the span of the fight already, and she could very well be making the damage worse. All the same, her body seemed unnaturally willful, arm having a mind of its own as memories flashed across her mind.

Other battles from which they had come home throughout the years: first him, then him and Edmund, and then, Lucy with them. All of them covered in blood and sweat, a lot of times not having time to stop at a creek to wash themselves or very often eat the provisions she'd packed. Hugs and kisses and tears would mark both their departures and returns, one of the countless things that had never changed for them, no matter how old they were or how many battles they fought. By some miracle, they had always come back to her, and she couldn't help but hope as hard as she could for the same phenomenon to happen here, thirteen hundred years later.

The vivid remembrances of a battered Peter coming home to Cair Paravel, a tired and sometimes wounded Lucy and Edmund trailing behind, finally compelled her to take control. Slowly, very slowly, she relinquished her hold.

Peering up at him, she struggled to blink away the tears that had formed without her knowing by the time his eyes, though clouded with pain, opened and cleared enough to recognize the droplets for what they were.

"Sorry…" Her voice betrayed her and shook, quiet against her will for it to sound strong for him. He didn't seem to mind, however, as his eyelids lifted, and he tried his hardest to smile through evident physical torment. He did admirably well; he had been through far, far worse, after all.

"That's all right." It wasn't, though. He was going to be risking his life, her big brother, and all she could do was wait and watch for possible treachery. It wasn't fair… But then, since when had war ever been fair? Since when had it ever been just or gentle or valiant or…or magnificent?

She couldn't remember a time, and as tears flooded her eyes again, she thought back to the nights when her siblings would wake, screaming and crying and occasionally vomiting from horridly lucid nightmares. It wasn't _meant _to be fair, wasn't _meant _to be just or gentle or valiant or magnificent.

"Be careful." She meant it, as her tone and face depicted, and though the words chiseled at her already fragile heart, she could not leave them unsaid. He cracked a small smile at the well-received warning.

One hand still rested on his lower arm as she gazed into his fiercely calm, determined eyes. The tears had long ago faded from them, though the lovingly protective, always present light hadn't; it never did, had never left since their first second in Narnia so long ago.

She could see that he was scared, see it in his eyes, posture, and taut visage, feel it in his tense muscles, hear it in his rapidly beating heart. All over, she was reminded of his place as High King, as eldest brother, and there was a sudden fray within her.

The only thing he wanted was for all of them to be safe, she and Edmund and Lucy, and if he had to sacrifice himself for them…he would do it. That had always been his way, the thing that had made him such a beloved King in the first place: the fact that he would _never _leave his siblings hanging, _never _leave them unguarded or alone. He would be there for them, despite anything and everything that might thwart him along the way. He would keep them as safe as he could for as long as he could, and that was the last of it.

It frightened her to no end, always had, and though she had been compelled to accept that fact about him long ago, it was indescribably more difficult to stomach after an entire year away from a place that demanded such things.

Swallowing the lump and jumping sobs in her throat, she pushed back the many tears in her eyes and wiped away the ones that had unknowingly streamed down her cheeks.

She kept her face down. Having shamed herself and her brother by crying for him, by showing weakness to the idea that he might not make it out alive, who was she to lift her head and stare proudly into the blue eyes of her High King, let alone their oppressors?

She was no one.

Two gentle, bare fingers curled under her chin and tenderly forced it upward, and she found herself peering into Peter's strong countenance.

He had removed both of the gloves covering the hand of his uninjured arm, mail and armor alike, when she'd begun to cry. He had been worried, surely, but he had also been through this too many times to count in their twenty-eight years of loving one another, and so, was more than prepared.

"Aslan help me, Su, haven't you any faith in me?" He was gentle in his words, laughing almost, and the thirteen-year-old Queen bit her lip in infamy. She tried to dip her head, but he firmed his grip on her chin. "I've survived millions of duels, and though it's come close, I've always made it, right?"

She opened her mouth to protest, eyes flashing and filling with tears dangerously, wanting desperately to know how that possibly made it any better, but he wasn't about to be stopped. His voice lowered volumes and octaves, and his own orbs and face became deathly serious.

"Then, you know how you can help me now. It isn't by your tears or love that I can be saved, despite my desires otherwise," His eyes shone, face brighter than she'd seen it in a year and days. His tone was excited, enthused, when he spoke next. "I've found Aslan again, Susan, and as long as I trust in Him, I have faith that I'll be _fine_!"

Looking her levelly in the eye, he spoke carefully, comprehending his sister's across-world struggle with Aslan.

"You know, too, don't you?"

Nodding her head vigorously, she let out a strangled sob and closed her eyes as a few tears involuntarily fell. Affectionately, empathetically, he let go of her chin to wipe them from her red cheeks with his thumbs, leaning in to whisper lowly and warmly in the young Queen's ear.

"It is vital that you once more allow Him entrance into your heart, Sister. He loves you, and He merely needs to see you are willing to believe for Him to begin the Work. Believe, and undoubtedly, I shall be here always."

Pulling back, she stared into his face and soothed instantly. His features were serene, confident, and though he was still scared, there was no shame in that. It was a natural feeling; a beautifully human, beautifully _alive_ feeling that she would cherish as long as she was meant to live.

"I love you, you know." The relaxed, slow smile that overtook his lips as she brushed the backs of her tender fingers against his cheek swelled each of their hearts.

Yes, he knew. He had always known, forever would know, that she loved him, and if he did end up dying today, he would gladly praise the Lion for letting it be the last thing he felt.

Watching his face soften to look more peaceful than seemed possible in his circumstance, she resolved to follow her brother's advice and thank Him for it when all wasn't so serious.

"Keep smiling." Edmund's abrupt, discreet mumble startled his siblings from their world and brought them back to Narnia. Following his flickering, dark gaze, Susan and Peter saw the Narnians whispering to each other worriedly, anxious for the condition of their High King.

Following his younger brother's orders, the boy-man raised his sword high into the air and forced a smile onto his lips, stretched with pain though it was; it appeared the agony of his left arm had been remembered, and he, perspiring and exhausted anew, tried to keep such testimonies from those whom looked to him for guidance and strength.

It seemed to work, for the descendants of his people broke out in loud, spirited cheers immediately, relieved and eagerly rooting for the Ancient Sovereign and his continued good health, even if the ones closest in proximity to him could see the _slightest _tremor of limbs and twitch of grinning cheeks.

The two eldest of the Pevensies, of the Kings and Queens of Old of Narnia, cast each other a glance that was caught and familiar, a truth in this current web of lies. Rushing past her brothers, their future successor, and Centaur marshal, she ran into the How and through the many passages until she was standing with the rest of the archers on its top.

Her bow in one hand, her free one ready to draw an arrow from her quiver when required, she noticed the others were equally equipped. Eyes fixed on the small, far-away shape of her brother as he sat on a column stub, she flinched at his agony and scream as Edmund suddenly popped his shoulder back into its socket with one, swift motion. Then, she began to pray.

_Dear Aslan, forgive me. I have lost faith in You after just one year. _

_I fear for my brother now, Your High King over all Narnia, Peter the Magnificent, walking straight into death as he may be. He has told me I must believe in You as he does, as Edmund has, as Lucy eternally will, if he is to survive. _

_Truly, I have wanted to believe again for the longest time, but I have not allowed my heart the dare of hoping. I had been hoping for the past year, and nothing had come of it until a few days ago. _

_I have been weak, that I see, and I cannot begin to know how to repent. _

_I remember conversations with my sister, Your Valiant Queen Lucy of the Eastern Sea, in which we would discuss what should happen if our eldest brother were to fall. She always had such faith that he would be all right because of You, and I believed it as well, clung to it with all I was._

_I blamed You for these last twelve months, namely the final six, and all of the misfortune that had befallen my family within that time. I blamed You for the changes that occurred in Peter, how hostile and ultimately alien he had become; I blamed You for Edmund's injuries each time Lucy and I assisted him in caring for them, which we only had to do because he stubbornly refused to cease in his efforts to help Peter; I blamed You for the months of tears Lucy cried, how guilty she was and continues to be__ for, as she calls it, 'leading us out of Narnia'__; and I blamed You for my regression, the way I fell back on solitude to save what was left of my heart. _

_I realize now how selfish I was. I had done everything but save my heart: I had hardened it, crystallized it into unbreakable, yet unsupported stone. I was unprepared to need You again, I admit; I am ashamed of it, though never more than You know. _

_I am sorry._

_I have asked this many times, I know, but I cannot recall a time when I was so earnest as now. Preservation of the High King is all I request, I pray the sole thing I shall have to ask of You for a time yet. He, along with the rest of my siblings, is my world, as You understand well. _

_We need him. __I__ need him._

_Please, do Your will, but I beg it includes my brother's living person._

Her prayer finished, she found herself checking back in after having psychologically retreated from the duel. Blinking her tear-filled eyes, she cleared her vision enough to assess the situation.

Miraz and Peter were facing each other, both more beaten and sweaty than before, both without helmets and the High King without his shield. She had been so absorbed in her plea that she'd missed perhaps the most critical moments…

Or maybe not.

Her breath caught as the Telmarine usurper went down on his knees. Peter walked patiently to and fro before him, hopeful that he could trust the man as they each regained a little of their strength; even with only a side-view of her brother, she could read him flawlessly after years of practice.

The twitch of his hand on his sword hilt personified his warrior's instinct to kill the man, revealing just a fraction of the extent to which it was fighting to be released. She knew Peter was much too honorable and disciplined to let it win, to let it overtake him as he had seen happen to many a soldier on either side during the battles of their reign. No…he would rather die looking into his assailant's eyes and watch the guilt of murdering someone they supposed a mere boy cloud their orbs.

His heartbeat was quick, respiring deeply to regulate its erratic rhythm, and his face was incredibly pale and tight with recalled warfare. He could not see past the bearded, outwardly older face; in reality, Peter would have been just one year older…

She scared herself as a shiver ran down her spine, and she closed her eyes and grit her teeth. A small, gentle movement, a side-step closer to her, caused her to start quietly and turn to her left.

Trumpkin, the gruff Red Dwarf whom had been their ally and guide since the beginning, had his warm, armor-clad knee just brushing her shin, leaving more than enough room to still be considered respectful of a Narnian Queen of Old.

This contact was something she never would have expected from him with anyone except Lucy, but he was offering comfort in her hour of need, and she was grateful. Giving him a tiny, appreciative smile, she bent down to kiss him inconspicuously on the forehead before standing straight and gazing back at the object of her anxiety. If she had not redirected her attention so quickly, she would have gotten the opportunity to see the Dwarf's face adopt a shade darker than his already redder-than-red hair.

It would appear as if Edmund was feeling the same anxiety as she, for his sudden, sharp yell rang loudly across the sparring ground, even echoing so far as to reach her ears.

"This is no time for chivalry, Peter!" He, Just King or no, was most correct: he had more of a right to reprimand their brother than she, as he and Lucy had been the ones with him in nearly every war that had taken place over the course of their fifteen-year rule.

She'd always stayed behind at Cair Paravel to oversee everything, having never dealt with blood or death well; they were much more suited for war, the three others of her family, though she had never been able to get over her fear that each time they left home alive would be the last.

Now, it seemed that the memories of those immensely guilt-and-fear-filled times of potential death were weighing heavily on not just her shoulders. She wondered if Lucy had found Aslan yet…? Lion's Mane, she hoped so.

As she watched Miraz suddenly attack Peter from behind, she gasped loudly in helpless fright and took two steps forward, forgetting her location and status. Yet, her people did not hold it against her, knowing well what she was going through, and Trumpkin jumped one footfall ahead with an arm outstretched in front of her, barring her from going any further toward the sheer drop to death.

Never taking her eyes off of her brother, her face showed recognition of the things meant to keep her sane, and her dimmed eyes became bright again. Blue orbs narrowed and palms sweaty, one fist was clenched as the other gripped her bow. He would regain himself in time… _Please_, Aslan, let him come to himself in time…

At a warning cry from Edmund, the High King collected himself enough to spin and slash down sideways, causing a great bellow to arise from the unlawful monarch. Even from this distance, Susan could see the dark, red patch of blood on the flat rocks beneath the duelers' feet. Miraz's lower leg had been torn open: he was incapacitated.

Maybe…maybe this was it; maybe they'd finally won. As she hastily wiped the sweat from her bow and firmed her grip on it, she begged it was so. For Peter's sake.

From the beginning, this hadn't been easy, and somehow, she had the distinct feeling things weren't about to let up quite yet.

How she hated it when she was right…

Lord Sopespian walked forward with a confidence and smug smile that unnerved Susan as he helped the fallen King to his feet. While they appeared to simply be exchanging words in the next few seconds, she did not relax. Something just didn't look right; the man at the King's disposal seemed much too satisfied with the outcome of the duel so far, stopping the General from committing treachery as he had most likely been commanded, and...there was something _hungry_ in his face...

Miraz stiffened prior to going limp in the Lord's arms, crashing heavily to the ground less than an instant later. One of her arrows stuck out from his back; he had been killed by one of his own, his most trusted companion, and she knew what was coming next. Sopespian turned and began shouting in a rehearsed voice to the Telmarine army that their King had been murdered in an act of treachery, rallying them against the whole of Old Narnia.

A man lunged for Peter, but he was quickly decapitated by the more superior warrior, and the real war finally began as the Telmarine army charged.

She counted in her head atop the How as she knew the High King was doing below with Edmund at his side, Caspian uttering the same underground. She got to seven, steeled herself, and called out to her archers, commanding in a tone no one, not even her family, had heard in a year:

"Take your aim!" They followed her into position, Trumpkin yelling out something about 'staying with them', the Telmarines, but she was focused on her older brother. She couldn't hear anything over the catapults' loads crashing all around them, the drumming of over a thousand hooves on the ground: the same ground that, in another second, caved in beneath the lot of them. "Now!"

The arrows flew, striking many dead and others wounded, a few poor, witless horses dying along with their riders. She wished the creatures well, for they had unknowingly belonged to the wrong side.

She felt in the air the resounding after-hum of Peter's order to attack, and the Narnians immediately sprang forth, battle cries from long ago flitting to mix with the new ones. Her people were willing, always had been willing, to die for their country, and it scared her to think of how many would actually meet such a fate today.

The earth opened cleanly on the far left and right of the currently panicking Telmarine army, Caspian leading them on Destrier, and they flooded the force from the back, choking them with their able numbers. Peter allowed his marshals to race ahead of him, but he was the next to rush into the throng of battle, killing several Telmarine soldiers before Susan turned her eyes to find Edmund.

Her youngest brother, crossbow in hand, mounted a horse. The weapon was something foreign, though far more deadly, to her primitive people, and she observed him in no little fascination as he slew many. In the few wars in which she'd participated, she'd never had the time to watch her brothers kill before; it was a wonder that they hadn't gone mad on her yet.

She was sure, if Lucy had been there, she would have been fighting right alongside her brothers, just as fierce or most likely fiercer as she fought for her beloved land.

It had terrified her endlessly during their rule, as she was realizing it still did, that her sister would one day meet her match in battle, ultimately sending her to a premature death. Yet, each time she had been proved wrong, she'd thanked Aslan and her brothers fervently, knowing the mortal ones had only been able to prevent such a tragedy because of Him.

She saw Peter freeze suddenly after slitting a man's throat and used her vantage point to her liking: nine new regiments seemed to have come out of nowhere, hiding out in the woods until their position benefited their cause. Once more, General Glozelle marched with them, though the true mastermind was no doubt smirking evilly as he surveyed his progress.

She had no time to let her eyes or thoughts darken with hate for the man as Caspian signaled to the archer-Dwarf-carrying Griffins perched behind her, which flew toward the enemy and were proficient in avoiding the boulders and oddly knife-like, mockingly eagle-headed weapons thrust at them.

A number of them began to fall, however, as the reinforcement troops marched closer, and more catapults and the indistinguishable machines that launched the eagle-carved devices popped up in place of footprints.

She became aware of Peter's eyes on her, and she looked back at him, watching him mouth their little sister's name as his voice sounded in her mind. She scanned the area, around the edges, into the trees, and through the middle of the clash, but her heart sank as she saw no sign of either the Great Lion or young Queen. Shaking her head to communicate the same to her waiting brother, he pursed his lips in exasperation.

Swiveling, he instructed the Narnians to retreat back inside the How, but the Telmarines released more boulders, one of them hitting the entrance to the base and blocking it permanently. She cried out for her subjects to brace themselves as rocks nearly grazed some of them, but she found herself screaming for a different reason when a direct hit caused part of the roof to cave in and a Tree to fall, bringing the edge on which she'd been standing down along with it.

Trumpkin made a lunge for her, catching her hand in an appropriate death grip. She felt two pairs of eyes digging into her back, their owners both more worried for her than themselves as they stood idle in the chaos that surrounded them. She spun around to reassure them, Peter and Caspian, the second she landed on the ledge on which Trumpkin had been forced to throw her in order to save her life.

Despite the gap between them, she could see the relieved tears in Peter's eyes. From then on, she gladly fought on the ground.

The following half-hour was blood, sweat, disorder, pain, and death, watching her brothers and Caspian fight all around her as she fought somewhere toward the middle, arrows and even bow alone well put to use.

More and more enemy soldiers trekked from the woods, and the Narnian side didn't appear as if it could take much more. It seemed like it would never end, but suddenly, soldiers on both sides jumped back as something snaked underground and tore up the earth above it.

Her attention was drawn to Caspian, however, as he was assaulted by two Telmarine soldiers and fell backward with a shout into one of the pits made by their cave-in trap. Still, she froze in wonder when, of all things, roots came to the unarmed Prince's rescue as General Glozelle happened upon him.

From all around, other Trees roared from the forest, scaring the Telmarines so badly that quite a few of them fainted on the spot. Peter helped his friend from the ditch and took their moment's rest to walk with the rest of his family and friends, every one peering about in wonder as Peter's face took on a knowing, loving look and turned to the Tenth.

"Lucy." It was simple; it was pure; it was everything.

They were called back to attention as they heard Sopespian order the men to Beruna, and the Kings and Queen of Old and New glanced at each other. This was the Second Battle of Beruna; this was the War of Deliverance; this was the end.

Peter let out a mighty call, one that made Edmund smile like he hadn't in a year, and Susan faintly grinned, too: Edmund remembered it much better than she did, having heard it a lot more. It was their brother's infamous battle cry... How the three younger ones had missed it.

"For Aslan!"

The Narnians echoed the yell with the same reverence, the same loyalty and solidarity, and as she and Peter locked eyes just before they darted forward, she knew she had been right to open her heart to Him again.

* * *

Her High King, her eldest brother, had survived a single combat against a man twice his age, and it was because of Him.

* * *

She looked up from fording the river to see her sister smiling at her, sheathing her small dagger as she stood beside the Great Lion. She was perfectly fine and so joyful that it brought tears to her eyes, and it was because of Him.

* * *

They had won the war, were celebrating their victory and Caspian's coronation in the former Telmarine castle, and it was because of Him.

* * *

They were leaving, she and Peter never to return to the only place they knew as home. Through her tears and heartache, through the cloud of depression and desperation that hung over her, she kept one thing close to her heart:

The Son of the Emperor-Over-the-Sea was everything, all she had ever needed and would need.

She loved Him...

And that was her reason for casting him away.

* * *

_A/N: _I was going to leave some Author's Notes explaining a few things, but I can't even remember what most of them are by now... *yawn* So...tired... I'm going to bed now, but if you want anything clarified, please ask/comment on its confusing points in a review! Thanks!


	2. Faith

_A/N: _I'm _so _sorry for the late update, guys! I feel _so _horrible about leaving you hanging, but I got so caught up with tests, homework, other stories, and lack of inspiration... I'm so sorry! Thank you so much for sticking with me after such a long wait (if you did... XP), and I hope you can forgive me!

_Important_: This is my first story that is set _completely _in bookverse Prince Caspian (well, actually, completely bookverse for _any _of the books), so I worked really hard on this! I _really _pray I got everything/everyone right, and I'm sorry if I didn't (if the last is the case, please tell me how I can fix it)!

**Basis: **This chapter belongs to Peter and Lucy; specifically, during the 'Gorge Arc' of the book, as I call it. Really, it is one of my favorite parts of the book, but one thing that always miffed me was how they showed Edmund and Susan's (even Trumpkin's!) revelations of Aslan, but just skipped over Peter's. That never sit right with me, as he _was _ the High King, and so, I made it up myself.

_Please _tell me how I did on it; I wanted it to be realistic, but also virtually keeping within the time frame of the book (meaning between Ed's revelation, the part where they say something along the lines of, 'everyone had seen Him now except Susan and Trumpkin,' and Aslan was waiting for them across the River--I think the order actually goes Ed, Aslan waiting, and none for Trumpkin and Su, but I can't find my books, as my Mom moved them for Thanksgiving, and I haven't been able to find them...). Lucy is Peter's favorite sister (as is expressed in this same book), and I don't believe he would go from doubting her to believing her without telling her he was sorry. Thus, this.

---Though I would expect the grand majority of this audience to already know what the heck the 'Gorge Arc' means, it is the part of Prince Caspian which starts out with Lucy seeing Aslan. She tells the others this, as well as the fact that He wants them to go up the side on the gorge, but no one believes her except Edmund. When taking a vote on what they should do, Peter, Susan, and Trumpkin vote against Lucy, saying they should go down the gorge, while Edmund sides with Lu. They journey down the side of the gorge all day until they very nearly walk straight into a Telmarine outpost, making them moving targets. After escaping, Peter sees Lucy may have been right after all, and they trek back up the gorge. At nightfall, they sleep in a clearing, and Lucy is woken by Aslan, who tells her that she and the others should follow Him, though the rest may not be able to see Him right off the bat. She wakes the others and tells them this, and while some (Susan) are disagreeable and call her 'naughty,' the rest are willing to go along with her when she threatens to go alone (as Aslan instructed). They follow her as she follows the temporarily invisible Aslan, though the rest are able to see Him in time: Edmund first, then Peter, and Susan last (of the siblings--Trumpkin is after her). They meet Aslan at the end, front and center.

_Disclaimer: _I do not own Chronicles of Narnia. C.S. Lewis does, as well as Walden Media Productions and 20th Century Fox Productions.

* * *

_"There's a hunger_

_It's slowly growing_

_Chasing shadows,_

_But never knowing_

_If all that I have done_

_Is keeping me from you,_

_Then can the arms of mercy bring the rescue_

_To return to you?"_

_~"For You Only" by Trading Yesterday_

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He had been so wrong, so terribly, horribly wrong, and he didn't know how his sister could forgive him so easily.

She had given him the true, real incentive of seeing Aslan again, but he hadn't believed her. Even when Edmund had spoken up, revealed concrete reason why they should believe her, and what with his connection to and understanding of the Lion since He had saved his life, he should have listened.

But, he… His vote had been the deciding one, the last, the Final Sentence of the High King of Narnia, and he had voted against them.

He had doubted the girl about the Son of the Emperor-Beyond-the-Sea, the thing that sent the girl's heart soaring like nothing else ever had or could. Moreover, he had doubted the one aspect he swore he never would again, not after the First Time that had appointed him as High King in the first place: her honesty.

He hadn't directly done it, of course; he wouldn't. He had simply been so ready to find Caspian and defeat the Telmarines, the fiends who had had the audacity to invade their home in its vulnerability, and… He had no good excuse. It was all his fault, and he knew it.

It was his fault Lucy had almost been killed by that bear today, his fault they had nearly been seriously wounded or worse when he'd led them straight into the Telmarine outpost a few hours ago, and it was his fault they had gone down the gorge instead of up.

He had praised Lucy then, telling her how good of a sport she was for going along with everyone when she knew they'd been doing the opposite of what Aslan had asked. She'd given him a small smile and shrugged her shoulders, saying it was all right and that sometimes one had to see something before he believed it, and kept on going.

He knew she had only been tired at the time, for her acceptances of apologies were normally much lengthier and kinder. They had been traveling since early that morning, though, and trudging up and down a gorge was trying work for a twenty-four-year-old stuck in a nine-year-old's war-rationed body, no matter how quickly the Narnian air was making them stronger.

Being the last one awake in the clearing where they'd stopped for the night, he had watched her before. Skin scarily pale as the moonlight had bathed her sleeping form, on her back with her hands cushioning her head as her arms were bent at the elbows, he'd seriously wondered whether essentially ignoring what truly may have been the Lion had caused the Telmarine attack or if it had merely been a coincidence.

_Unless_ Lucy had been right... He had shuddered at the thought, rolling from his stomach to his shoulder, facing away from his sister. He couldn't bear to gaze upon such a firm, Outwardly-believing soul when he had let his faith turn Inward.

He and his siblings had been alone that year, in Finchley. They had had Mother, yes, and the letters from Father whenever he could find the time and supplies to write, but really, they had been guideless and senseless in a land in which their cries of homesickness were only met with blank stares.

He had done his best to stay strong for the three younger ones. They'd needed a sense of familiarity above all else, and he'd been willing to give that in the form of the Kingly brother with whom they had grown up and with whom they were again.

There were darker parts to that time, however, things that had made the frontage all the more difficult to maintain.

Sometimes, he would find Susan crying in the bedroom she and Lucy shared, a simple name or completely unrelated story throwing her into the deep end of her miserable emotions. He would sit with her and embrace her as he had in Those Days, willing her gentle heart to ease for a while.

Edmund would become dark sometimes, remembering the inhabitants of a land no one in England, apart from those affected by it, believed existed. The Just would contemplate his time with the Witch and whether he had even been worthy to rule beside such radiant siblings, once to a point at which Peter had had to slap him with something not unlike the twenty-eight-year-old strength the Four had known.

Lucy would sometimes bite her lip in remembrance of a home and Lion she dearly missed, crying silently valiant tears until the blood came. He would borrow and dampen one of her handkerchiefs, carefully dabbing at the wound; it was so much more than broken skin, a thing made incredibly clear as more tears fell with each press.

There were no 'sometimes' for him, as he could not afford to show such weakness. He had welcomed and shouldered nearly the same burdens at different instances during the Golden Age, and he would strive to handle their equivalents in this new Old Home. No matter how hard it got, his motivation was right there with him.

Stemming from such circumstances and the feelings they entailed, he had come to rely on himself only. Upon returning here, he had let that become stronger, let it blind his judgment and force trust onto his own devices, exactly as he had in that Other Place. His unbridled emotions were his conscience and leader, dulled forms of senses he had missed, and ones he'd mistakenly chosen to follow down this forbidden path.

He wished he could go back, change his vote and make things right before he'd even been given the chance to mess up. That was impossible, however, and he was stuck in the present.

Awake now, though currently for a very different reason than a whirring mind, he listened to a nervous Lucy explain why she had woken them, and he knew they had been given a second chance. If they wouldn't trust Him, Aslan would want them to trust Lucy, and this impromptu midnight trek was proof. They weren't going to pass up this opportunity for redemption a second time on his watch.

He gave her a small smile and nodded, grin widening a little as her face brightened immediately. Taking his hand, she beamed at him, squeezing it gratefully as she allowed him to help her to her feet upon rising himself. He didn't pay it much mind when he heard a faint huff from Susan a few feet to his left; she would be happy again once they were out of the woods.

Feeling his hand suddenly cold, he glanced down to find Lucy gone. Looking up, he found her running ahead, already several paces in front of them by the time she called back.

"Hurry! Aslan's on the move!" The last phrase struck a chord within the three remaining siblings, sent a brilliant fear and gladness rushing through their hearts and souls, and they were eager to follow.

However, after only five minutes of the walking, Susan's morale declined again, and Trumpkin, having never believed in the Lion, simply dismissed the tickle he felt in his chest and went along.

Keeping his youngest sister within his sights as he led what was left of the group—Edmund rushed, Susan plodded, and Trumpkin, at the rear, marched dutifully—Peter couldn't help looking again for the Lion Lucy insisted was there.

According to her, Aslan had not given a reason as to why they might not be able to see Him so soon, but the eldest knew she could guess as well as any of them.

He couldn't stop the spark of envy that lit in his heart. Why was Lucy the only one to see Him? They all knew she was the one most devoted to Him, but were they any less faithful? Yet, that same jealousy burned itself out as quickly as it ignited.

He couldn't truthfully deny turning away over the duration of the year, if just a little. He'd been confused about their departure and emotionally stripped because of his siblings' grief, not to mention his silent own. He hadn't _felt _the Lion with them then; he hadn't felt reassured or strong or at all as he had as High King.

In their fifteen years as Kings and Queens, the Four had served Him faithfully. He had asked of them sometimes immensely arduous feats, but they'd accomplished them out of love for and faith in Him. They had all believed wholeheartedly, and nothing had ever been able to change that.

In his heart, the reason Lucy could see Him was almost written across her forehead. She had never let go of her hope that she would see Him again, that they would return to their country and find the personas they'd left behind. All along, she'd had faith enough for each of them, if they would have only thought to draw from it.

Shouts from behind alerted him to reality, and it took but a single, backward glance at the alarmed faces to know Lucy was the cause; his middle siblings had worn identical expressions during times of trouble involving their sister, and the Red Dwarf was true to all of them.

Whipping his head to the front, he understood: Lucy was about to fall over the edge.

"For goodness' sake, look _out_, Lu!" They all ran for her quickly, sprinting faster than the siblings had ever been capable of doing in England. From what his skilled eyes could tell, she seemed to be craning her neck and leaning forward to make sure of something, and he considered his assumption correct when she scurried to climb over the edge and lower herself down.

A mysterious trail they hadn't noticed before wound down the gorge's side.

Perhaps Lucy was right. Maybe He _was _there with them.

Pulling up just after Lucy had made it down, he protectively continued to watch her. Then, when Edmund came to stand at his side, he gestured in front of him and saw his brother nod out of the corner of his eye. Letting him pass, he smiled at the comforting thought that the younger King would never let anything he could prevent happen to their sister, not after so many years of bleeding for and loving her.

Peter, meanwhile, stayed behind to wait for Susan. He hoped to cheer her up a bit, for all of their sakes.

"Hello! What's that?" Edmund's surprised voice traveled up to him a minute and a half later from a lower point on the trail, numerous feet before a much shallower part of the River. Was he seeing things now, too?

"You see, Ed?" The excitement in Lucy's voice was entirely palpable, and it was no mystery as to why. Not for the first time, he felt dreadfully guilty.

"Yes, well, I do believe I saw _Something_. What was that Shadow?" Even with all of the trials in England, the Just had only broken a little. Back home now, it appeared as if he was reinforcing that strength with the steadfast belief he'd possessed throughout their Golden Years.

"That was Him, Ed!" Peter could see Lucy's form faintly in the moonlight, and one of her tiny hands was tightly clasping her brother's as they gazed at Something Unseen.

"By Jove, I do think you're right!" Turning to her, the youngest of the Pevensie boys sounded ashamed."Lu, I'm sorry. I should have—" She merely smiled.

"Edmund, you _did _believe me. Being the second to see Aslan proves that. Thank you," There was silence, and he knew the two were grinning respectfully, companionably, eyes soft as brown gazed into blue. Abruptly, Lucy gasped and peered ahead again. "Come on, He's moving."

Still holding hands as they strode after the Invisible, the High King watched enviously. He wished he could believe like that, like Lucy; he wished he could have as much trust as Edmund. He had, at one time. Where had _that _part of him gone?

Honestly, he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Hearing footsteps behind him, one set of footfalls grumpily heavy to the other's inevitable weightiness, he knew it was Susan and Trumpkin.

"Pardon me, your Majesty," The Dwarf said as he ambled down the ledge by way of a few, conveniently-piled rocks and proceeded to peer at him for direction when back on solid ground. "Would you rather I went with Queen Lucy and King Edmund?" Gazing toward the younger pair, Peter smiled fondly and turned back to the little man.

"No, my Good Dwarf. They know well how to defend themselves, and—" He paused abruptly, not sure if he was strong enough to say this yet. In the end, a mysterious, but recognized Power surged through him, and he knew he was. "And…Aslan is with them. They're perfectly safe."

"Yes, your Majesty." Though he said the words deferentially, there was such disbelief in the Narnian's eyes that Peter felt as if he had been physically struck. For a moment, he dared to wonder if such doubt had ever crossed his or his siblings' orbs in the past twelve months. It was an unsettling thought, and he blinked slowly to clear his head, giving it a shake for good measure.

"Peter, this is _wrong_. Can't you see Lucy's leading us on a wild goose chase in the middle of the night to get back at us for not believing her before? Why do we even believe her now? She hasn't given us any valid proof that Aslan's been here!"

Susan.

Peter, although not exactly willing to deal with his eldest sister's allegations or whining, forced himself to hold his tongue and breath. Releasing both gradually, he turned to her as she stood on the ledge above them. Reaching up a hand, he spoke to her as he helped her down to his and Trumpkin's level.

"You're not being very fair, Su; you know she wouldn't do something like that. Besides, maybe she can't prove it. You heard her: Aslan said we wouldn't be able to see him right away. Didn't you hear that Edmund's seen Him now, too?" By the look of indignation on her face, he knew she had. He was going in for the kill now, voice a little fiercer; this was something he didn't want to say, but it was what she needed to hear. "Do you really think we would have survived the Golden Age if it hadn't been for her? If we lose Lucy now, we lose Edmund, too—" The color in his sister's face was fading to match the moonlight's already. "And you _know_ I'm not losing either."

Susan was silent now, painful memories no doubt conveying the message. He _hated _having to do that to her, but sometimes, there was just no other way.

The most important thing at present was catching up to Edmund and Lucy. Pulling her along with him as he walked faster, Trumpkin came on his right side, and the trio quickly covered ground.

In about fifty-five seconds, they were right beside them, five steps from the Great River. Peter and Susan still saw nothing, and Trumpkin thought the younger King and Queen had gone bonkers.

A gentle sloshing reached the High King's ears, and he glanced at his company; none were close to the water, though Edmund and Lucy's faces were eager, and they looked quite ready to splash across in pursuit of—

Wait… As elation filled him, a rather large twinge of fear joining the caravan also, and he immediately looked toward the water.

_Yes_…!

The cool, blue-white liquid appeared to dance in the moonbeams as Something Unseen leisurely tread through it. The footsteps were of changing size: one minute, they were as big as an elephant's, and another, they were but a small pony's.

When he finally dragged his eyes away from the water to gradually travel upward, wishing to know if he could at last be seeing what he had wanted to see more than anything since their journey's start, he was met with a pair of Eyes.

These Eyes were not the ordinary blue, green, or brown; no, These were gold, a more brilliant and painfully open color than had ever been known to a land or world beyond Narnia. They were noble, loving, forgiving, omniscient, dangerous, and all-piercing.

These were _Aslan's _Eyes.

Holding the gaze for only a short, fleeting instant as the Lion looked back, his core was made bare and laid out for all to see. Tears pooled in Peter's eyes and began streaming down his visage as a joyous, regretful beam lit there, and though the Face had already turned ahead…he had _seen _Him!

Squeezing Susan's hand tightly in his euphoria, he looked to her and prayed she could see what his sudden emotional release meant. Salty droplets glazed her own eyes, though not in the way he had intended, and he could not produce an apology before she bent her head toward the ground and refused to raise it.

Powerless to right his mistake, he peeked at Edmund and Lucy. They stared back, grins just about splitting their faces in half as tears fell from their own orbs, and they quickly lunged to embrace him.

Having to let go of Susan's hand in record time in order to catch the two, he didn't realize the strength with which she had been clutching his.

With arms outstretched, he drank in the feel of their warm bodies melting into his as they hugged him tightly, Edmund's arms around his lower chest and Lucy's around his waist. His own arms wrapping around their shoulders, he held them to him and leaned down to kiss their heads through their hair.

Two patches on his chest and stomach were now wet with their tear stains, but he didn't care. He was just glad to be in their confidence again, particularly Lucy's, though he had a feeling he'd never actually left.

After Edmund stepped back, the surrounding company was silent. Placing firm, loving hands on Lucy's shoulders, Peter bent down once more to plant another kiss on her forehead and rest his own atop her head. Grinning as she did, he whispered to her warmly.

"I'm so sorry, Lucy, I really am. I should have believed you. I—" He faltered, but knew he didn't have to explain himself. His sister had always been the perceptive one, and she would know already. "I'm sorry."

Reaching up, Lucy tenderly took one of his hands from her shoulder and kissed its back, laughing. She fell into her Old Speech for a moment, and Old Days had never seemed closer.

"Peter, no pardon is required. I am grateful for the sacrifices you made for our sakes in Spare Oom. Self-reliance was not the righteous path, but as it was on our behalf, I cannot possibly be cross," Relieved as he pulled back to look at her, she gave him a gentle smile and raised palm, all fingers touching except pinkie and thumb. "I love you, High King of Narnia and my heart, and I am true."

Recognizing the last words and hand gesture as parts of the Soldier's Oath from the years of participating in and leading the Narnian army, Peter cried out and laughed in delight, Lucy joining in as she was lifted into the air and swung around in a wide circle. Setting her down, their chuckles died to leave beautiful beams on their faces.

Squeezing his hand one, last time, she rejoined Edmund, gazing ahead to see the Lion waiting for them across the water, His swishing tail expressing an amused need for haste.

Peter taking Susan's hand as Ed did Lucy's, Trumpkin trailed as they forded the River with the utmost consideration. The River Spirit was not the same one the Pevensies had known, but it would not due to offend the descendant of one of their friends.

They followed Aslan through the rest of the night hours and into the early morning, the sky still reasonably gray for an estimate of around four-thirty. There was no questioning their happiness at spying their first glimpse of the open field through the last of the Trees' branches.

Bright smiles formed, even a minute one on Susan's part, and they sighed heavily in relief. Indeed, fresh air without feeling socked in by masses of trees and other familial vegetation was a wondrous thing.

Aslan hadn't stopped yet, so they kept going. However, by the image of the large, stone structure not a long ways off at the other end of the field, they knew they didn't have much further to go.

Neither the Gentle Queen nor the Dwarf had seen literal head or tail of the Lion yet, and Peter was beginning to worry.

Was his sister really so far gone? She'd seemed mostly fine back in England, a little touchy about Narnia sometimes and a bit more cynical than to what he was accustomed, but she hadn't been so bad as to repulse Him, had she?

Lucy watched her brother worriedly, biting her lip. She glanced at Susan, then went back to Peter, and was proven correct in her assumption that he was thinking of their sister. Whether he realized it or not, Peter had a different look in his eyes for each of his siblings, and she normally enjoyed gazing into his blue orbs to see which of them he was pondering. Now, though, she wasn't having fun.

She had noticed the subtle changes in her sister since their return to England. She had become bossier, more cynical, more reclusive, and altogether _weaker _than she had ever been in Narnia, and Lucy was dearly afraid that they might be losing her. The impression was given that Peter had finally begun to _really _notice as well, and the youngest could see he was just as worried as she was, if not more.

They climbed to the top of a hill, its high point rounded and wide, and this is where Aslan came to a final halt. The children were not as weary as they might have been after undertaking the same task back in Finchley; instead, they felt as they had as early adults and late teenagers, Peter as twenty, Susan as nineteen, Edmund as seventeen, and Lucy as fifteen. The Narnian air was doing them wonders, and there were no doubts that they would be feeling exactly as strong as they had on the Day of the White Stag in a few hours' time.

The Eyes, golden and magnificent like the rest of Him, bore into each of their souls now, and three of the five rejoiced.

"Come forward, Kings of Narnia." The sole Voice the siblings loved more than any other in any world was rich, powerful, joyful, and they could not—surely, would not—deny Him.

Edmund and Peter marched forward, heads held high like true Kings of a Good Land, though never higher than Aslan's. Lucy moved to follow, but was stopped by her sister's pleading hand and trembling voice. Precious few words could be heard or understood, but the eldest Pevensie distinctly picked up on 'believe,' 'see,' and 'sorry.'

A moment later, the young girl rejoined them, staying a respectful distance behind, but not willing to be too far away. Trumpkin and Susan fell back, uncertain and afraid; Trumpkin could see Him now, too, and if he was any judge of words, Peter could guess Su had been confessing the same of herself to Lucy.

All other thoughts fled from his mind as the Lion's Face came to be in front of his. The words tumbled from his mouth, just as they had that First Time.

"Oh, Aslan," He instantly fell to one knee in a practiced motion, using both hands to lift one of the Great One's Paws to his bent, humbled, mortified countenance. "I'm so glad. And I'm so sorry. I've been leading them wrong ever since we started and especially yesterday morning."

He couldn't see the Lion's Smile, but he could sense it. It was practically able to be felt as well, as love radiated off of the Beast Over All Beasts in waves. Raising his head to see Him in all His Glory, Peter smiled.

Just as Lucy had been so good and forgiven his lack of faith so easily, something he had inadvertently compelled her to do any number of times during their rule and since returning, he could not truthfully say he didn't expect the Lion to follow in her footsteps.

"My Dear Son."

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_A/N: _The lines at the end (not sure about Aslan's first one...as I am without my books...) and ones I may be forgetting, as they would be if you recognize them, are direct quotations from the book. I did, however, paraphrased the descriptive parts (got the quotations as references from my profile when I wrote them there a while ago) where Peter kneels and raises Aslan's Paw to his face, where the boys (and eventually Lucy) come forward and Susan/Trumpkin stay back, and other parts concerning the way down the side of the gorge's ledge.

The parts about the army and hand sign were made up by me, and here is the reason for the sign: in a strange way, I thought it may have looked like the albatross (if you picture a bird's head in your wrist, your three middle-fingers as the tail, and pinkie and thumb as wings), something that (in my mind) may very well have symbolized courage and hope to the Narnians, even so far back as the Golden Age.

Thanks so much for reading! I'll try to make the next update faster, but I have a Science Fair and Honors English project assigned, so who knows?

Oh, and if something is misspelled or there are grammatical errors of any kind in this, please tell me! I'm _dead tired_, and I don't notice much like that. Much appreciated!


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